


Though This Be Madness, Yet There is Method In't

by ladyblahblah



Series: Through the Looking Glass [1]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M, Mirror Universe, Pon Farr, Through the Looking Glass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-01
Updated: 2012-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 08:25:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyblahblah/pseuds/ladyblahblah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Ri-telsu</em>.  Unbonded.  Given the opportunity to secure an unquestioned ally, wouldn't you take it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Though This Be Madness, Yet There is Method In't

**Author's Note:**

> Guys . . . guys, I don't even know.  Everyone's suggestions for the prompt were so great, but sometime between posting that and the first responses I got this idea.  Still not _entirely_ sure how I feel about it.  But, um, here it is.  *posts, hides under a rock*
> 
> ETA: Woah, this fic is now available [in Chinese](http://www.mtslash.com/viewthread.php?tid=51948)! :o

**Title:** Though This Be Madness, Yet There is Method In't  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Summary:** _Ri-telsu_.  Unbonded.  Given the opportunity to secure an unquestioned ally, wouldn't you take it?  
 **Warnings:** Mirrorverse.  If that doesn't say enough . . . violence, dub!con, implied torture. ( >_<)  
 **Word Count:** 1000 EXACTLY  
 **Beta:** [](http://xlcatloveress.livejournal.com/profile)[**xlcatloveress**](http://xlcatloveress.livejournal.com/)   
 **Author's Note:** Guys . . . guys, I don't even know.  Everyone's suggestions for the prompt were so great, but sometime between posting that and the first responses I got this idea.  Still not _entirely_ sure how I feel about it.  But, um, here it is.  *posts, hides under a rock*

 

 

Hot as Vulcan, the saying goes.  But Vulcan is no more, and in its absence that wicked heat is raging in his First Officer’s eyes.

_It’s a calculated risk, he knows, but one does not rise to be the youngest Captain in the Empire’s history by playing it safe.  And James Kirk believes strongly enough in fate to see this as a sort of kismet.  A spy, delivered into their very hands as if by Providence, in possession of information that Kirk hadn’t even known he sought.  What does that make this, if not destiny?_

_“A damn fool idea,” Doctor McCoy says when he tells him.  He methodically cleans the Orion’s blood from the blade of his antique scalpel.  It’s strange, this obsession the doctor has with ancient Terran medicine.  Useful, but oddly old-fashioned.  But then, that’s Bones all over.  “You’re gonna get yourself killed,” he adds casually._

_“Maybe,” Kirk acknowledges.  “But if I don’t . . .”_

Their uniforms are in tatters, torn apart by impatient fingers.  They haven’t made it to the bed; instead Kirk’s chest is pinned to the desk, held there by a hand against his spine as Spock enters him.  The pain is searing, blinding, and Kirk dimly hears himself scream.  There has been no preparation, nothing to ease penetration.  Spock doesn’t care, just blindly forces his way inside and immediately begins to move.  Agonized tears slide down Kirk’s face.

He pushes back, encouraging.

_“Talk to me.”_

_“Please . . . no more . . .”_

_“Now, now.”  Kirk lightly slaps the Orion’s face, just a tap, really, to get his attention.  “None of that.  I want to hear what you know about our Vulcan officer.”_

_“There’s nothing more!  I’ve told you everything I know.  I’ve told you everything.”_

_“Tell me again.”_

A growl rips its way out of Spock’s chest and he moves harder, slamming into Kirk over and over with unrestrained force.  Long fingers dig into Kirk’s hip and nails score his skin; he can feel thin trickles of blood sliding down his leg.  Spock’s other hand moves from his spine to his hair and grips, yanking Kirk’s head up until his back bows.  Evidently pleased with the new angle, Spock unleashes a torrent of indecipherable words ground out between gasping breaths.  It might be Vulcan, but it could just as easily be Klingon, or Cardassian, or something entirely new, drawn from the depths of Spock’s madness.

It doesn’t really matter.  Kirk doesn’t know the words, but he understands them anyway, understands dark violence and mindless rage and unbearable, agonizing _want_.  Instinctive terror spikes through him at the sound and Spock shudders, _moans_ , and comes inside of him.

 _Unbonded.  That’s the word that the Orion uses, again and again, as he speaks of Vulcan starships slinking silently through space, plundering entire colonies.  “_ Slavery _,” the Orion says, as though the very word pains him more than any of Bones’s diversions.  Most released, but a few, only ever a few unlucky people taken for good, as though the Vulcans are sifting through the populace for the most worthy._

 _“They survived the destruction of Vulcan,” he says hoarsely, “but they’re_ ri-telsu _.  Unbonded.  Something was triggered by their planet’s death, something that a bondmate grounds and centers.  Without that link they’re little more than animals, sating themselves on anyone they manage to find.”_

_“What was triggered?”_

_“A mating drive.  It’s supposed to be a seven-year cycle, but it’s been set off early in nearly all of them.  It goes in waves, never striking them all at the same time; they’d probably all kill each other off if it did.”_

_“Hmm.”  Kirk bares his teeth in a shark-like smile.  “Tell me about Vulcan bonds.”_

_Sulu is almost certainly planning his next assassination attempt in retribution for being locked out of the interrogation, but Kirk is quite pleased with the results of his inquest.  The Orion had certainly done his homework, and after several hours in Sickbay was more than willing to talk.  Weak-willed pacifists, Kirk thinks dismissively.  Really not cut out for espionage despite their talent for gathering information._

_And oh, the information this one had._

Spock pulls out of him and shoves him towards the bed.  Kirk doesn’t quite get there; his legs give out and he falls to the floor, and Spock is on him again in an instant.  He doesn’t wait this time, either, simply shoves Kirk’s knees up and slides inside again, still hard or hard again, and it doesn’t matter because it’s slick enough now that pleasure and pain are mixed in equal measures.  Kirk has never felt anything better, and he begins to harden immediately.

_“Christine is in with him now,” Bones says as he walks into his office where Kirk is waiting.  “Poor bastard.  Jim.”  He sits and pulls a bottle of Romulan Ale from his desk drawer.  “You can’t really be thinking of going through with this.”_

_“Why the hell not?”  Kirk accepts a glass when the doctor hands it to him.  “With as many enemies as I have, I need someone I can trust on my side.”_

_“You don’t trust me?”_

_“Not a chance,” Kirk snorts, and the doctor laughs._

_“Smart boy.  Still.  Damned risky.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“He’ll probably kill you.”_

_“Maybe.  But they’re taking mates where they find them.  And he wants me.”_

_After that it’s simply a matter of waiting.  Leave denied when Spock asks, security hacked so Kirk can keep watch.  When the signs present themselves, when the Vulcan’s control is weakened, Spock’s quarters are invaded and his fingers forced to Kirk’s face before he can protest.  The rest is instinct._

Kirk is close to coming when Spock’s hand spiders across his face again, fingertips digging into his psi-points with bruising force.  Then Kirk is being consumed, drowned in the chaos and madness and black fury of Spock’s mind.  And Kirk laughs, and laughs, and laughs, because the more Spock takes the more he gives, binding them tighter, and he is Kirk’s, he is his, his, _his_. **﻿**  



End file.
